


Unorgettable

by Suzann89x



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzann89x/pseuds/Suzann89x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new tribute, Bekah gets reaped to compete in The Hunger Games. With her nineteenth birthday, and therefore her ineligibility to compete, looming, she finds comfort in the unlikely arms of her mentor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reaped

"Bekah Webber," Effie read from the neatly creased small parchment.

 

The small group standing near Bekah shuffled aside, a few girls giving her sympathetic looks. Bekah avoided making eye contact with anyone as she maneuvered through the other girls her age. She was at the edge of the crowd before she exhaled the air she had held since she heard her name.

 

"Bekah Webber!" Effie called again. She took a deep breath then stepped out into the clear makeshift walkway, and headed toward the stage, counting her steps, 'one, two, three...seven, eight, nine...' Bekah couldn't believe this! She was turning 19 in only a month; she was so close to making it without ever being chosen as a tribute. She lifted her eyes briefly from her feet to scope out where she planned to go after signing her death sentence by stepping upon the platform. She tried to focus, but the sun was too hot and the air too dry. Beech pushed her wavy auburn hair out of her sapphire colored eyes to look at the stage once more, and stopped mid-step, faltering. _He_ was there, sitting in a chair on the stage, looking entirely unamused.

 

"Dear?" Effie asked, attempting to feign concern; she failed dismally.

 

 _'Of course he's here!'_ Bekah thought, _'Why wouldn't he be? The only thing that could possibly make this worse!'_

 

Bekah dropped her gaze immediately when Effie's third call caught his attention and he looked at her. Bekah headed toward the stage once more, extremely aware of him watching her.

 

"Congratulations, Miss Webber," Effie said, then motioned for her to stand off to the side while she selected a boy tribute. Bekah felt a bit overwhelmed, scared, and stunned, but mostly she was nervous.

 

"Logan Hemlock," Effie announced.

 

'Nervous...because _he_ was watching her!' Bekah let out a short, very loud, laugh.

 

Everyone looked at her oddly, probably assuming she was laughing at the poor Logan boy being chosen. She shook her head apologetically, feverishly attempting to cover up her faux pas by twirling her finger in the air by her temple and making a goofy face; the cameras would love it - she would be the slightly unbalanced tribute this year.

 

As Logan, a slender boy two years younger than Bekah, stepped onto the stage, she met him halfway to shake his hand at Effie's direction.

 

Bekah barely remembered the farewells that seemed so final when her family came to give her at the Justice Building, although she did recall her older sister, Annabelle, bawling telling her she loved her repeatedly. It was all so surreal that Bekah half thought she was having a nightmare. However, she soon learned it wasn't - she was practically barricaded in a bedroom on a train. Now she wished she had said she was sorry for this happening, apologized for all of her misdeeds, or just said _something_... _ **anything**_. She couldn't recall uttering any actual words.

 

Bekah only crept out of her room at night, praying no one would see her. She would hurriedly grab some food, then rush back to her too-tiny train-car bedroom to eat her scavenged snacks alone on her bed. She would probably never noticed the train's arrival at the Capital had Effie not viciously rapped on her door, repeatedly announcing it.

 

Effie corralled them all, Logan, Bekah, and Haymitch (looking especially drunk) to their hotel floor; the tributes were assigned floors by their district, which meant District 12 got the penthouse suite; it had multiple bedrooms, a living area, a gourmet kitchen, and a formal dining room, all of which were lavishly decorated. Logan and Effie immediately started jabbering about presentation tactics and the like, Haymitch staggered to his bedroom to collapse in a drunken stupor, and Bekah, thinking of nothing else better to do, began to listen in on Effie and Logan's conversation. After trying to add her own views and suggestions, and getting a rather disgusted look from Effie, Bekah gave up and left to explore her own room, making a mental note that she was not very fond of Effie.

 

Bekah was very impressed with her room; it had a California-King-Size bed, a mini-fridge, yet to be stocked - she frowned at that -, a television that covered two-thirds of one wall, and a bathroom that was equipped with so many shiny gizmos she had to shut the door before she got a headache from the glare. Bekah then decided to take a page out of Haymitch's book and nap, so she stripped off her clothes, which were sweaty from the long day, tossed them in the bathtub, then laid on the wonderfully comfortable bed.

 

It felt like she had just dozed off when Effie rapped on her door in the overly-frantic way that Bekah would never get used to, "Come, come, come, everyone is waiting!"

 

Bekah sat up groggily, "Who is 'everyone'?"

 

Effie made a clicking with her tongue, "Logan, myself, your stylists, Haymitch-"

 

-"Haymitch is sleeping, Effie"

 

"Haymitch is up now," Bekah heard Haymitch's voice from the hall, "he had a very nice nap, but knows when to get up."

 

Bekah cracked her door just wide enough for her to grab Effie's wrist and pull her through the door, "Effie! What's going on? Why do I need to go out there?"

 

"You are meeting your stylists-" Effie seemed to suddenly realize Bekah was in just her undergarments, "Where are your clothes?"

 

"I was hot, so I took them off and laid down."

 

"Hop in the shower and I will bring you your bag," Effie said with a surprisingly kind smile.

 

Bekah nodded, went to the overly-reflective bathroom, and adjusted the water temperature on the shower, unintentionally overhearing Effie explaining, "She's getting a shower; she'll be right out. She forgot her bag, too."

 

She was anything but 'right out'; Bekah found standing in the steaming shower with the water running down her back to be a great opportunity to contemplate her situation. Not only was she going to be made up like a little girl's doll and paraded in front of the country, but she surely wasn't going to ever make it back home alive; to make matters even worse, _he_ was going to be there until she entered the arena. Beech hit her head on the wall several times. _Why does it have to be **him**? Anyone else would have been better! **Anyone**_!

 

She was jerked abruptly from her thoughts by Effie tapping on the door.

 

Bekah immediately shut off the water, jumped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and let Effie in, "Effie, can you help me with something?"

 

Effie was very glad to help by powdering Bekah's face to cover the redness the hot shower caused, "You know Cinna will take care of all this."

 

"Yeah, I know."

 

Within 5 minutes, Bekah was dressed, no longer red, and leaving her room, granted her hair was still dripping. She took a seat in the overly large armchair, facing the group of people: Logan, Haymitch, and three people she did not know, one of which she assumed was Cinna.

 

"You could've gotten your own bag, you know," Haymitch said.

 

Unsure if he was being rude or joking, Bekah shook her head and muttered, "I wasn't decent."

 

Haymitch snorted, and, was she imagining it, or did he turn a little pink? "Trust me, sweetheart, it's nothing I haven't seen."

 

" _Haymitch!_ " Effie exclaimed, taking a seat on another chair.

 

Bekah was now definitely red in the face, and not from the shower.

 

"No, no - not _her_ ," Haymitch stumbled over his words, trying to clarify.

 

"Obviously," Effie scoffed.

 

"Just in general," Haymitch ended, trying to be certain everyone was clear.

 

There was a very uncomfortable silence for a minute, then Haymitch said, "So, uhm, these are your stylists."

 

After the introductions, the stylists led Bekah toward the exterior hallway. She looked back over her shoulder, wanting to say thanks to Effie, but instead caught Haymitch's eye. They both immediately looked away.

 

When Bekah had been scrubbed a total of 9 times, had her legs waxed twice, her hair in elegant half-updo, and had full makeup done, she was wrapped in a towel that was soft, but still irritated her now raw skin. The stylists led her back to her hotel suite, where Effie and Haymitch were waiting. When Bekah saw that Haymitch was there, she tightened her grip on the robe covering her body. She didn't know why, but she felt as though everyone now had the impression he had seen her in less-than-decent attire, and somehow, the robe was her shield against those assumptions. She was relieved when she was led around behind the couch and upstairs, not even pausing to say hello to the pair in the living area. They entered a large room with closets up and down the walls. After circling Bekah several times, Cinna went to a closet at the back of the room, and emerged with a dusty-rose knee-length halter dress. Bekah knew it had to be expensive, and so she very, very carefully stepped into it, letting Cinna clasp the hook behind her neck, so she wouldn't destroy her hairstyle. She stepped into silver high heels, and looked at Cinna with uncertainty.

 

"Beautiful," he said.

 

They headed back downstairs, and Effie was on her feet before they even got halfway down the staircase, "Let's see, let's see!"

 

As Bekah and the stylists entered the living area, Effie squealed, "Oh, dear, you look wonderful!"

 

"Jesus, woman, what are you shrieking about," Haymitch had clearly dozed off. He stood, turning around, "What's the -" he dropped off midsentence when he had turned 180 degrees, his eyes focused, and fell on Bekah.

 

"Haymitch?" Effie nudged him.

 

"Yeah, uh, I liked you better before," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

 

"Oh, Haymitch," Effie shrugged him off, "you're just being rude."

 

He collapsed onto the couch to resume nursing his drink.

 

"Alright, alright," Effie announced, "The tribute parade is in a half-hour! Then, you will do your introductory interviews."

 

"Interviews?" Bekah asked,

 

"Yes, yes, it's all very simple; Caesar will just ask you one or two questions; he does most of the talking, actually"

 

"Good," Bekah was relieved at that news.

 

Logan and Bekah were stationed in a chariot to be introduced to Panem. Bekah tried to make idle chitchat with him, but was unsuccessful at getting him to say much. After all, what were they going to discuss? Their families they would never see again? Their school they would never go back to? Might as well just ask him how he thinks he'll die in the arena. Their chariot pulled off and led them into a stadium packed with people who were cheering, waving, and, in Bekah's opinion, acting altogether too excited about seeing 23 sacrificial lambs in top hats and lace. The image of a sheep in such attire made Bekah smile, which was good so the audience didn't think she was entirely unfriendly.

 

The introduction was all too ceremonious for Bekah's taste, like a 10 minute blessing of thanks over a meal of dried apples. Too much embellishment, too much theatrics, it was just all too over-the-top. And this Snow guy? How pompous! She did not care for the president. Luckily, the tribute parade was over soon thereafter he finished his speech.

 

In the apex outside the stadium, Logan and Bekah had more time to deal with pre-interview jitters than the other tributes, as they would be last and second-to-last.

 

Bekah tried to listen in on the interviews, hoping to gain some clues as to what Caesar would be asking, but the crowd was too noisy and she was too nervous to really pay attention.

 

Before she knew it, her name was being called. Bekah braced herself, preparing for the worst.


	2. She Can Hold A Grudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bekah continues being dragged to stylists and interviews. She finds camaraderie in her mentor and unintentionally offends Effie.

Effie Trinket had been correct; Caesar Flickerman had done most of the talking, so Bekah was only required to nod and smile, sometimes say a quick, "yes, very much" or "no, no, not really".

Bekah, Effie, Logan and their stylists headed back to the penthouse, Haymitch trailing behind. They all sat in the living area, squealing, jabbering, and laughing while discussing the events of the evening. Once again, Bekah said very little. After the stylists and Cinna left, Logan and Effie began to look drowsy.

"I'm going to take a shower," Bekah announced, getting up.

"Sweetie," Effie said, "You did that earlier and it's getting late."

"I'm not tired. You don't have to wait up. I feel like I need to wash all this fashion off," Bekah said and went to her room. She wasn't sleepy, but her back was achy from the high heels and she wanted to relax a bit, so Bekah decided to try out the Jacuzzi-sized bathtub. She filled it to the brim, testing out the different bubble features and smelling several scented foaming body washes before she chose one and stepped in. Bekah washed slowly, in no hurry to see anyone else that evening. She soaked in the champagne-scented water long after her hands and feet were pruned. Bekah listened as intently as she could, waiting to hear Effie bid goodnight to the others. Bekah sighed. _Finally! I half expected her to pop in here for something._ She dressed leisurely, then looked at the clock on the wall; it was 2:40 in the morning. Everyone else had surely gone to bed already.

She quietly opened her door and crept into the living area, tiptoed the across marble floor and stepped into the kitchen. She was taken aback by a figure leaning back against a counter.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Haymitch asked out of the darkness.

"Thirsty," Bekah replied, being sure not to make eye contact with him.

"Glasses are over here," Haymitch flicked on the light.

Bekah squinted in the sudden brightness, trying to adjust to the drastic change. As her eyes focused, she saw that Haymitch was in long pants and he was shirtless; this made her very uncomfortable for some reason.

Haymitch opened a cabinet by his head and handed her a glass, "Here you go."

"Thanks," Bekah muttered, keeping her eyes on what she was doing; she filled the glass with ice, and as she was pouring the water, Haymitch came to stand beside her, "Uh, earlier..."

Bekah started at his speaking, jumping slightly. He was talking very quietly (surely to avoid waking anyone) but it seemed as though he were very close to her, for Bekah could hear each syllable with extraordinary preciseness.

"About the dress and the makeup," he paused.

Bekah cocked her head to the side, indicating she was listening.

"I, uh, I wasn't trying to be rude," Haymitch was talking so quietly now that, at this point, Bekah almost had to strain to hear him, "I just, I meant I like you better like this. Normal."

Bekah stared at the floor. _Did Haymitch Abernathy just give a compliment_?

"Uh...thanks?" She blinked.

Haymitch cleared his throat loudly, "Ahem. You should get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Well, there's another interview; people want to get to know the tributes."

Bekah wrinkled her nose; she was dreading the interviews more than the Game itself.

"And then, you have a tactics discussion with me, and Cinna wants to talk with you about wardrobe or something."

Bekah nodded silently. _Why can't you let me just go to bed?_

"Oh, and tomorrow during the interview, try to say something other than 'yes' and 'no'. Be chatty."

"But I'm not chatty," Bekah commented.

"Pretend. Go to bed and practice...I dunno, talking to....yourself."

"Ugh!" Bekah groaned. "Goodnight, then."

Bekah went to her room and Haymitch watched her until she closed the door.

Bekah did not practice being chatty. She just lay in the bed, replaying her encounter with her mentor. _Surely he doesn't remember me_.

She finally dozed off around 4:30, but was unable to get any real rest; her mind wouldn't shut up.

 

 

"Well, then," Effie said to Bekah over their breakfast the next morning, "About your interview yesterday...you hardly said a word about it last night. Were you nervous?"

"Oh no, not at all," Bekah said, "I frequently shake uncontrollably when having a conversation."

Logan and Haymitch laughed from across the table; their laughter was quickly silenced by a sour look from Effie.

"Sarcasm, dear," she said in a falsely sweet tone, with a stern look at Bekah.

The four finished their meals without further conversation.

A Capitol Avox picked up Effie's plate, then Logan's, and attempted to take Bekah's, but she wouldn't let her, "I can help." Bekah saw Effie pursing her lips out of the corner of her eye. Bekah picked up her glass, and Haymitch's plate, then trailed behind the Avox girl, who motioned for her to set her load on the counter.

Bekah she couldn't speak, but was still surprised when the girl gave her a swift hug.

"Would you like any more help?" The girl shook her head and so Bekah left, although reluctantly.

 

 

When Bekah entered the living area, she saw on Effie's face that she was about to be scolded.

Effie started in as soon as Bekah had sat down, "Bekah! You should not help them!"

"What?" Bekah had thought she had had bad table manners or something, "This is about that?" Bekah looked to Logan for backup, "That's insane!"

Effie huffed, "How on earth is that insane? It is their job."

"Oh, do they get paid?" Bekah crossed her arms.

"Of course not."

Bekah felt anger boiling up inside her, "Then that's not a job; that's slavery."

Haymitch shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to her.

"Well," Effie said matter-of-factly, "It is their duty to help."

Bekah snorted, " _Help_? Help implies they're assisting someone else who is doing something."

"Either way," Effie sighed, "It is inappropriate, what you did. It just is."

"Inappropriate? _Really_? Inappropriate?" Bekah stood to leave and head to her room, "The only thing that was inappropriate was sitting on your ass while you let someone else clean up after you!"

Effie stepped toward Bekah angrily.

Haymitch jumped up off the couch to his feet and stood between the two, placing his hands on Effie's shoulders, "Calm down, there, Effie; all she's saying is that she is very grateful to them."

Bekah scoffed loudly, which earned her a silencing look from Haymitch.

"Well!" Effie said, "I just think everyone needs to know their place."

Bekah scowled, "That's kind of my point."

Effie huffed and left their hotel suite, and Logan went after her, saying he was going to try to calm her down.

Haymitch turned to Bekah, "What are you doing?"

"What?"

He sighed and sat back on the couch, "I agree with you, but you can't just challenge their system. The people here think having your tongue cut out and sentenced to serve the tributes is a perfectly fine punishment."

Bekah growled inwardly and sat down as well, "I can't believe these people," she mused aloud, shaking her head.

Offering her the bottle of whiskey, Haymitch nodded, "It is all pretty damn twisted."

Together they polished off the half-full whiskey bottle; Bekah was careful to never meet his eyes. She didn't regularly drink so she was feeling very happy afterward, "So, does this count as our tactics discussion?"

Haymitch checked his watch, "I guess so; you learned that whiskey may not make your problems disappear, but it sure as hell makes them easier to deal with."

Bekah giggled, "Especially if your problem is in a cotton-candy colored dress, wearing blue lipstick." She described what Effie had been wearing that day.

Haymitch smiled, "You're alright, Bekah."

She once again was blindsided by the sort-of compliment. "Yeah, you're acceptable, yourself," she said with a teasing grin. _Whoa, enough whiskey for me. What the hell, Bekah?_

"Uh, I think I'm supposed to be getting beautified now," she stood, getting a wave of lightheadedness from the liquor as she did.

After she got to her bedroom, Bekah realized she had no idea where she could actually find Cinna. Luckily, after ten minutes of sitting idly on her bed, Bekah heard Effie return, back to her frantic self.

Effie came into Bekah's room, "Alright, time to head down." Bekah followed her wordlessly out of the suite, down the long corridor, and into the makeover room. After Bekah had been scrubbed nearly raw once more, the prep team did their magic. Cinna dressed her in a deep purple, sleek gown after touching up her hair. Bekah hated being worked on like someone's dummy mannequin, but she tried not to let that show to Cinna. When he had put the final touches, shimmering powder dusted on her shoulders and an added touch of extra gloss for her lips, Cinna summoned Effie.

She was pleased, although not as enthusiastic - probably still bitter from their conflict that morning - nodding in approval before escorting her to the apex outside the interview stage. Effie led Bekah to the line of waiting tributes, then turned sharply on her heel and left without a word. Bekah frowned; the other escorts were waiting with their tributes, along with their mentors, and Effie had just left! Bekah looked around, eyeing the other tributes and mentors. She spotted Logan talking to Haymitch, who was leaning against the wall, looking troubled. He signaled to Logan that he would be right back, then approached Bekah, "I saw that," he said.

"What? The thing with Effie?"

Haymitch nodded, "She can hold a grudge, that one."

Bekah sighed; she could think of nothing that would heal Effie's apparently hurt feelings.

Haymitch shook his head in disbelief, "These people are definitely different," he commented, "I'll talk to her."


	3. A Dreaded Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caesar's interview happens to have the one question Bekah does not want to be asked.

The interview flew by, and soon, Bekah had showered, changed, and was back in the suite living area. Haymitch had proven true to his word and spoken to Effie about the dispute earlier; she was in a much better mood, and even resumed calling Bekah, "dear". After a short conversation, Effie suddenly remembered she had left something in the prep room, and ran off to retrieve it. She wasn't back for almost an hour, which was odd considering the prep room wasn't that far.

She burst through the door, very frazzled, "Well, I never!" she exclaimed, entering the living area.

"Something wrong?" Haymitch asked.

"Yes, Haymitch!" Effie said, exasperated, "Something _is_ wrong! On my way to retrieve my binder, I ran into Tiana Morgan! **Tiana Morgan**! Of all people!"

Bekah whispered to Haymitch, "Who's Tiana Morgan?"

Haymitch shrugged, "No clue."

Effie then filled them in: Tiana Morgan had apparently lived next door to Effie when they were growing up. Tiana had, in Effie's mind, 'always been trying to one-up' her. Tiana had stolen Effie's boyfriend and had always been rivaling with her.

"Oh!" Effie said, "She had some work done, and, let me tell you, she. looks. _ridiculous_!"

At this, Haymitch poured himself a glass of whiskey. Bekah decided she might as well settle in; this was going to be a long story; she grabbed a glass off the table next to her, and held it in front of Haymitch. He looked taken aback, but filled the glass anyway. They then listened to Effie's hour-long rant about Tiana Morgan, sipping on their drinks in an attempt to tolerate the speech. Haymitch refilled Bekah's glass once and his own twice; he soon began to almost feign genuine interest in Effie's tales.

After she was done venting her frustrations, Effie scurried off to her room.

"If this becomes a habit of hers," Haymitch said, "we're going to need more whiskey."

Bekah wondered how much they had drank.

Haymitch held up the bottle, which was now missing three-quarters of its contents.

"That was a new bottle!" Bekah was stunned.

"Yes, well," Haymitch mused, "She's a lot to handle."

Bekah soon went to bed, falling immediately to sleep thanks to the whiskey.

 

 

This became the nightly ritual: for the next three evenings: Effie would carry on about some trivial news, gossip about a new fashion trend, or complain about someone's social faux pas while Haymitch and Bekah listened, sharing half a bottle of liquor. After Effie had retired to her room the third night, Haymitch quietly said, "This is all so barbaric."

Bekah frowned, wondering if he was trying to spark a conversation. Haymitch then briefly told her of his victory in the 50th games, and of how he had greatly embarrassed President Snow by way of finding a method of using the arena itself as a weapon. She felt a sharp knife of pain in her gut when she saw the agony in Haymitch's eyes as he told her the president had gotten revenge by killing Haymitch's family.

That night, as Bekah thought about Haymitch's tragedy, she recalled the anguished look on his face and the intense pain in his voice; she rolled over, gathering the quilt around her neck as she felt tears roll down her face.

 

 

The next evening, the main tribute interviews were taking place, and so the day was spent entirely with the prep team. As soon as Effie brought Bekah to the prep room, Venia, Octavia and Flavius immediately began their ritual of scrubbing, waxing and tweezing. Then, Venia went to work on Bekah's makeup. When her chair was turned around to the mirror, an hour after Venia began, Bekah saw the most wonderfully done shading and coloring; her eyes had been lined with brown smoky strokes, her cheeks were the perfect combination of rosy and natural, and her lips! Her mouth had taken the longest; Venia had insisted they 'accent their natural fullness'; she had kept the result simplistic: a faded cherry base color with pinkish accents, and the shiniest gloss Bekah had ever seen. She touched her bottom lip gingerly and was surprised that it wasn't sticky. The prep team then led her to a small room down the hall.

They left her there alone, Flavius saying, "Cinna already has a gown chosen. He'll be right in." Bekah waited patiently, constantly fighting the urge to run her fingers through her hair, which had been left down, with soft curls around her face.

Cinna tapped on the door. At her permission, he came in, a dress bag laid over his arm, "My prep team has outdone themselves", he said with a kind smile when he looked at Bekah's exquisitely done makeup and hair.

"What am I wearing tonight?" Bekah asked, curiously eyeing the bag in Cinna's arms.

"Well, tonight is the major interview night; you'll be on camera for a longer period of time, so I chose something comfortable, yet fashionable." He unzipped the bag, "I also thought the color would bring out your eyes." Bekah's jaw almost dropped when she saw her dress: it was floor length, royal blue with a low v-neck that was lined with tiny jewels. Cinna was right; after getting into it, Bekah looked in the mirror and saw that her eyes were now a more pure, shiny blue.

Thirty minutes later, Bekah was in line to head to the stage for her interview, and with only six tributes ahead of her. With a lot of the nervousness of the tributes having subsided after the first two interviews, Bekah had no problem hearing those before her.

"So, Tracy," Caesar was asking the girl from District 10, "On Reaping Day, were you at all expecting to be chosen? Were you nervous?"

"Honestly, no, Caesar, and I'll tell you why not," Tracy, a petite 15 year old with dull blonde hair, answered, "When I was 12, my first reaping, that morning, the boy I liked kissed me for the first time. I didn't get chosen. So the morning of each reaping day, this boy would kiss me for good luck, and I didn't get picked!"

Caesar nodded, "Oh, okay...wait, what happened this year?"

"Well the boy was sick and didn't want me to catch his cold; I figured it was a silly superstition, but I got chosen, so..."

"A lucky first kiss? Huh. Maybe you should've risked getting sick?"

Tracy nodded, "Maybe."

That interview was over and the boy from the same district came on stage.

Caesar greeted him, "So, Michael, do you have a lucky first kiss story to tell us?" He laughed.

"No, mine wasn't really lucky," Michael answered, then proceeded to tell a rather long, albeit amusing story of a game of truth or dare that resulted in him having to kiss his cousin.

Caesar was good natured about it, only ribbing Michael a bit.

Both the girl and boy from District 11 continued this first kiss story trend, and Bekah was becoming more and more nervous. _Please. **Please** don't ask me_.

Beech was onstage, seated across from Caesar, before she had fully worked out how to respond if he did ask her.

Surely enough, Caesar continued the pattern, "Well, Bekah, apparently the hot topic is first kisses. Shall we carry on this trend?"

Bekah shook her head no, then looked down, feeling her face grow hot with embarrassment.

"Ah! She's blushing!" Caesar announced. At this point, Bekah wanted to strangle him, however good-natured he was. "A blush means a juicy story. I think the audience wants to hear!"

The crowd cheered in agreement.

Bekah tried as hard as she could not to glare at the lot of them, let out a slow breath, then said, "Fine. It's really not that interesting," she then tried to steer the conversation away from herself, "I mean, if you want dirt, bring Michael back. I've never kissed my cousin."

The crowd laughed, but Caesar was focused, "No, no, we want to hear your story."

The audience cheered in agreement once again. _Ugh; what is **wrong** with these people?_

Bekah sighed, seeing no way around it, "Well, it was only two years ago, right after my seventeenth birthday. My sister and I had gone to The Market that summer day..."

Bekah remembered it vividly; Annabelle had begged her to go; she didn't want to go alone. Bekah had wanted to stay home since it was deathly hot and she would have preferred to remain indoors.

After being dragged around by her sister to half the merchants, Bekah needed a cool drink. She left her sister, who was older than her, and did not need a chaperone, to head to a nearby pub. The place was empty, save the bartender, so Bekah ordered an ice water and sat at the bar, making idle chitchat with the elderly man. She had been there no more than five minutes when two men entered, arguing good-naturedly. Bekah had tried to ignore them, but they stood by the bar, very near her, continuing their discussion:

"You should! You should just go up to her and say, 'hey, I like you'," said the first man, who had clearly had one too many drinks already, said.

"No way! She'd laugh at me!" the other man, who had his back to Bekah, said.

"Okay, so you don't give her the opportunity to laugh!"

The man with the woman troubles gave a derisive snort.

"Seriously. If you don't want to be laughed at, don't give her a chance to laugh! Just grab her and lay a kiss on her."

"No; I can't do that; I'm not like you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you could grab any girl you wanted and kiss her; if I did that, she'd slap me."

"I could _not_ do that," the first man argued.

"You could! You're handsome; you could get away with kissing a complete stranger."

Beech had just finished her drink, and stood to leave; the man who was encouraging his friend said, "Really?" and grabbed Bekah and kissed her full on the mouth. Bekah stood frozen for a minute after he released her, then silently left the bar.

"So," Caesar asked, "Your first kiss was with a complete stranger?"

Bekah nodded, "Yeah. I mean, I'd seen him around, but we had never actually been formally introduced.

"Wow, not such a great experience for your first kiss, huh?"

Bekah shrugged but remained silent.

"Hopefully your other experiences were better," Caesar said sympathetically.

Bekah cleared her throat, "Actually, I've kissed maybe 2 other guys, but, really, that one is a lot to live up to," she felt herself blushing once more. _Damn your mouth!_ She looked down, embarrassed

"What do you mean?" Caesar inquired, "How so?"

"Uh, well, since it was so unexpected, I didn't have time to even be nervous, or worried about anything, and with that gone, a lot can be communicated in a kiss."

Caesar looked intrigued, "You have beauty and depth. Tell me, what did that kiss communicate to you?"

_Really, Caesar?_

"Well, somehow it told me that even though the man was what some might call rough around the edges, I think at his core he's really a good person....kind."

"All that from a kiss?" Caesar mused, "Sounds like someone has a crush."

Beech said pursed her lips then mused quietly under her breath, "And I bet he doesn't even remember."


	4. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bekah encounters Haymitch after her too-personal interview and finds out that his memory is quite good.

After Bekah was back in the suite, she changed, washed her face, then sat in the living area to talk with Cinna, Effie, and Logan for nearly an hour. The others went to bed, but Bekah wasn't tired. She sat on the couch watching the second showing of the interviews recaps, and Haymitch wandered in and plopped down at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Nice interview," he said.

"Thanks. I hated it."

After a minute or so, Bekah got up and headed to her room.

"This is all just a television show, you know that, right?" Haymitch asked, standing up.

"Yeah, only in this one the people on it get killed," Bekah turned around to speak to him.

"Fair point."

"Where were you during the interviews?"

"I was there," he said quietly.

"How do you stand it? Mentoring tributes when you know they'll most likely die?"

"I drink."

"You know this whole thing is bizarre, right?" Bekah asked.

Haymitch just nodded.

"Seriously! This whole damn game is ridiculous!" Bekah almost shouted, frustrated, "No one really cares, not even the people who are supposed to care!"

Haymitch frowned.

"It's all just a television show! No one cares if I die!"

"Yes they do."

"Who? Effie doesn't care, you don't care, hell, _**Logan** might be the one to kill me!_ "

Bekah turned to leave, but Haymitch grabbed her wrist, "You think I don't care?" He pushed her against the wall, "You really think I don't care if you die?" Suddenly he was kissing her. Fiercely at first, much like the Haymitch from the bar two years prior, but then he kissed her gently, until he was just only brushing his lips on hers. He looked at her, "I remember."

"What?"

"I remember the bar. I remember you."

Bekah didn't know what to say.

"I remember," Haymitch said again, then kissed her again, sweetly, tenderly, lightly tracing his tongue along her lips.

"Haymitch?" Bekah spoke softly, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Haymitch frowned, "What could I have said?  ' _Hey, remember that random guy at the bar who kissed you? Uh, that was me.'?_ "

Bekah couldn't help but giggle.

"You really think I'm a good person?"

Bekah nodded, biting her lip, "I do."

Haymitch's eyes searched her face for a moment as he lessened the strength he was holding her against the wall with, "You might be wrong."

Bekah sighed, and, after a week of avoiding it, met his eyes, "I'm not."

 

 

Breakfast the next morning was less awkward than Bekah or Haymitch had feared. They both were irrationally worried that Effie somehow knew about their kiss, but she said nothing. Each evening after Bekah had trained for hours with the other 23 tributes, she would sit in the living area amongst Effie, Logan, Cimma, and the prep team, listening to them all, mostly Effie, yammer about rankings, scores, and sponsors. Haymitch and Bekah would stay up long after the others had left, talking and joking and laughing. Laughing! Bekah had expected zero laughter on this "trip". The two got to know each other quite well, and would occasionally just lounge on the sofa together, careful to avoid being see by anyone.

One day, after Bekah had finished training, a Capitol Official approached her, "Bekah Webber?"

The formality of his stance and tone immediately made Bekah nervous and uncomfortable, "Yes?" she replied.

The man handed her a small, thick card and silently walked away.

Bemused, she stood in the hallway and opened it to read:

Miss Webber -

We have received word that your sister,

Annabelle Webber

has fallen ill with malaria.

We regret to inform you that she has passed.

\- Panem

Bekah broke down. Annabelle! She didn't even know Annabelle had been sick. Bekah collapsed to the floor, right in the middle of the hallway filled with bustling shoppers, and wept uncontrollably. _Annabelle! I can't believe Annabelle is gone!_ The tears poured from her eyes, flowing continuously, and Bekah began to hyperventilate. _Sweet sweet Annabelle!_ Bekah recalled her sister reading bedtime stories until 2 am, waiting for Bekah to doze off. Annabelle had been the one who filled in for their mother when she was ill all those years. Bekah had had no thought to her own death, but the death of her sister so suddenly was too much for her to handle. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She could do nothing. For fifteen minutes, Bekah stayed curled on the ground violently sobbing. Then Bekah felt a pair of strong hands on her shoulders and Haymitch was crouched beside her. He quietly read the note, then held Bekah until she calmed down enough to stand. He helped her off the floor, and led a trembling Bekah back to the suite, arm wrapped securely around her waist.

Once they had arrived, Haymitch lowered Bekah to the couch and brought her a glass of water. Haymitch had no words, but he sat with her for forty minutes, and he realized she was asleep. He read the note Bekah had received and angrily crumpled it. So formal. So matter-of-fact. No compassion. Bekah stirred and leaned farther into his arms. Bekah then woke with a start. She burst into tears once again, and Haymitch tried to comfort her; she lay with her head on his chest as he stroked her hair. Bekah slept for two hours without waking.

Haymitch lightly kissed the top of her head just before the suite door opened.


	5. Promise You'll Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Games begin

Effie stood for a brief moment, stunned by the sight of Haymitch lying on the couch, Bekah half-beside, half-on top of him, her head on his chest.

"Haymitch Abernathy!" she exclaimed, waking Bekah with a jolt, "What in heaven's name are you doing?" Haymitch ignored Effie, who continued to scold both of them, for the moment, and focused on Bekah.

"You better?" he asked.

Bekah rubbed her eyes and nodded.

"Go lie down; I'll check on you in a bit," Haymitch said, raising himself and Bekah up to a sitting position. Bekah wearily stood and went to her room, her mind fuzzy from all the crying.

Haymitch rounded on Effie, "What is your problem?" he demanded.

"You were behaving extremely inappropriately; you are her mentor, she is your student! You cannot just take a nap with her whenever you fancy!"

Growling under his breath, he hunted for the note that had informed Bekah of Annabelle's death. Effie continued to lecture Haymitch, but he managed to tune her out for the most part; he only caught snippets like "entirely unacceptable", "completely and utterly shameful", "improperly", but what sparked his returning to face her was her comment of "sexual harassment" and "coercion"; Haymitch spun around to face her, surprisingly calm, "coercion?" he asked, unbelievingly, then said, "You're right, Effie; I faked the letter and provided comfort to lower Bekah's guard so I could sexually harass and coerce her," he said sarcastically.

Effie was flustered, "Letter? What letter?"

Haymitch thrust the note into her hands. After she read it, Effie whispered, "Oh dear. Haymitch, no one told me."

"Hell of a way to find out your sister died," Haymitch mused, then told Effie about how the letter had been delivered and how Bekah collapsed. He left Effie right afterward, and opened Bekah's door quietly. He saw through the crack that Bekah was already sound asleep, so he closed her door back and went to bed himself.

Two days later, the initial shock of her sister's death had subsided, Bekah resumed attending training sessions. Haymitch approached her in the hotel suite the evening after her third day back in training, looking stressed. Effie was out for the night, attending a gala, hoping to find Bekah and Logan a last-minute sponsor or two; with Effie out and Logan long since in bed, Haymitch and Bekah were entirely alone. Bekah worried that Haymitch had waited until the others were gone to tell her that Effie had convinced him that they should not be involved romantically.

 

Haymitch looked at Bekah seriously, "Bekah, you only have three days until the Games; are you ready?"

Bekah swallowed. _No, of course she wasn't ready! Ready to slaughter kids for no reason? How does someone even **get** ready for that?_ She shook her head.

Haymitch sighed, "Bekah, it's kill or be killed in there. You can't get killed."

"Well, I'm not going to murder anyone; if I'm going to die, I don't want an execution to be the last thing I do."

Haymitch frowned, "Bekah, if you don't fight, you will die. You can't die."

Bekah was suddenly very nervous about the Games; until now, she hadn't faced the reality of it. She looked at her hands, contemplating the feeling of death. Is it just like going to sleep? Or like getting hit by a train?

Haymitch lifted her chin up to look at him, "Bekah. You can't die. I can't lose you."

Beech stared into his eyes, trying to think of a way to tell him that the part she feared most about death was being without him, but no words seemed enough.

"I've fallen in love with you, Bekah." Haymitch looked away.

"Haymitch..." Bekah took his hand. Those were the words she had been unable to find. "Haymitch, I think you read my mind; I'm pretty sure I love you, too," she admitted. She couldn't stop herself from continuing to speak, rambling on, "I know it's crazy, especially since you're over a decade older than me, and so maybe it's a silly crush, but I know it's not. But people will think it is - they won't believe me - and I just feel kind of silly saying it out loud -".

Haymitch took her face in his hands, interrupting her "Bekah, I believe you. Why does it matter if no one else does?"

Bekah bit her lip, nodding.

"You have to come home; promise you'll come home," Haymitch said.

Bekah realized that she could kill someone; she would murder someone if the only other option was never seeing this man again.

"Bekah," Haymitch said, "Promise you'll come home."

She nodded.

"Promise you'll come home to me."

"I will. I promise."

Haymitch kissed her hungrily, passionately. He moved his mouth down to her neck, devouring her skin with his lips, lifting her shirt up over her head and tossing it aside.

They fell onto his bed together and did not leave it until morning. Assuming Bekah had never spent an evening with a man (since he had, after all, been her first kiss), Haymitch knew that she would remember that night forever, and so he made sure it was a fond memory. Haymitch laced his fingers through Bekah's and held her through the night.

 

 

The next three days went by in a blur; more events and an interview, and then, Bekah was standing in the small room with the tube-entrance to the arena. She put on a brave face, though she was trembling with fear. She stepped into the tube, then was pushed out of the ground and into the arena.

Haymitch returned to the hotel suite to find Effie watching the live broadcast. He went to his bedroom, snatching up the bottle of whiskey on his way. There he stayed for three days, destroying his liver and obsessing over worst-case scenarios that could happen in the arena.

 

 

Beech had done as Haymitch instructed, running far away from the cornucopia - and the bloodbath - as quickly as possible. She had avoided fighting tributes by listening for any sound of movement and fleeing from it. Bekah eventually found a small alcove by a stream that was just big enough for her to lie down in. She spent the daytime on the move, roaming the woods, searching for edibles, then returned to her mini-cave at night. She had seen other tributes far in the distance once or twice, but had hurried away each time.

One morning, Effie tapped on Haymitch's door, offering him breakfast. Not intoxicated enough that morning to deal with anyone, especially not Effie, he started to close the door on her, then he heard Bekah's voice; Effie had been watching the interviews. Haymitch turned to head back to bed.

 _"Well, it was only two years ago, right after my seventeenth birthday..."_ Bekah's voice said from the television. Haymitch stopped abruptly.

 _Two years ago? After her seventeenth birthday?_ Had he heard that right? Haymitch stumbled trying to get to the control for the TV. He rewound it.

 _"Well, it was only two years ago, right after my seventeenth birthday..."_ Bekah was turning nineteen the next day! She would be over the age limit for a tribute!

Haymitch grabbed a pair of pants, putting them on as he hurried out the door. If the Gamemakers knew this, they should let her leave the arena! He prayed that they would see reason.


	6. Removed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch appeals to the Gamemakers to uphold the age-restriction of the Game contestants

"Mr. Abernathy," Seneca Crane said, "You know that once a tribute is in the arena, we cannot retrieve them."

Haymitch had explained the circumstances to President Snow, Seneca, and three other Gamemakers. They refused to change their minds, however. Haymitch stormed back to the suite, went into his bedroom, slamming the door behind himself, and poured a large glass of whiskey. He downed it, poured another, spilling it all over himself; Haymitch threw the glass against the wall, shattering it. He fell onto his bed, sitting on the edge, holding his head in his hands.

 _What was he going to do without Bekah?_ He had loved Maysilee over 20 years prior, but he had only been sixteen and had known it was a romance doomed to only last a mere 48 hours. But Bekah had given him a reason to get up in the mornings, a future to look forward to. Haymitch jumped off the bed, and hit the wall with the butts of his fists. He couldn't lose Bekah; she was his reason for living now.

 

 

Bekah spent the next day huddled in her tiny cave, and celebrated her 19th birthday with a meal of greens, fruit, and a squirrel. Bekah hadn't heard another tribute in 10 hours; they must all be elsewhere in the arena, killing one another mercilessly - she counted four cannon fires. Bekah was determined to remain there, in her cave, as long as possible; she fell asleep, shivering in the cool, dank air that surrounded her in the alcove. In the early hours of the following evening, Bekah heard a loud rumbling outside. Cautiously, carefully, she peered through a small opening; she saw that the bushes were being thrashed around viciously and the leaves on the ground were being blown aside, revealing the wet dirt of the ground. Bekah stepped slowly from her alcove. Her hair, which had clumps of hardened dirt, twigs, and mud dried into it, was whipped around her face. She looked up to see a very small, very out-of place, aircraft lowering to the ground. As she watched in disbelief, a door opened on the dull metal side, and a Capitol official was there, waving her arm. After the craft thundered to its landing 30 feet from her, Bekah ran toward the official, "What is this?"

"Come on," the woman said, "You're leaving."

Bekah rushed inside the aircraft, needing no second instruction. _Was this real?_ Bekah sat down as another official fussed over her state.

"Are you injured?" the second woman asked as the aircraft rose from the ground.

Bekah shook her head.

"Oh, wonderful!" the official who Bekah had seen waving from the aircraft entrance, "If you had been hurt, that would have been unfortunate."

Bekah was still in shock, "Good thing I wasn't killed."

"Oh, heavens! That would have been disastrous!"

"I know." Bekah said, a lot more shortly than she had intended. She tried to make up for her clippiness by sweetly asking, "So, why am I being removed?"

"You're 19 now."

Bekah didn't reply.

"Once you were no longer 18, you did not meet the requirements to compete."

Bekah thought it was very lucky that she had not been shot on her way to the aircraft.

 

 

 

The trip back to the Capitol took over five hours, which Bekah took to feel very grateful for her life. She had only barely escaped death.

After arriving back to the Capitol and being escorted back, for some reason, to the prep room, Bekah showered quickly, then dressed in an outfit Cinna had left for her. She was glad no one was there with her; the only person she wanted to see was Haymitch. Bekah hurriedly used the dryer-defrizz tool, then rushed to the hotel suite.

Haymitch was in his room, sitting on the foot of his bed, an empty whiskey bottle dangling from his hand. He wished he had not drank it all last night. Haymitch left his room, heading to the kitchen for a fresh bottle. Haymitch was halfway through the living area when the suite door opened. Bekah entered, and Haymitch dropped the whiskey bottle, letting it fall to the floor. Bekah ran to him immediately. Haymitch caught her in his arms, taking her face in his hands, "How is this possible?" He lifted Bekah from her feet, "It doesn't matter. You're alive." Haymitch kissed her passionately. Bekah found herself consumed with desire as she felt his body against hers.

Caught up in the relief, the joy, and the passion, Haymitch lifted her up onto the small table on the wall between the bedroom doors, unbuttoning Bekah's shirt. He had never been as anxious for anything as he was to have Bekah safe in his embrace again. Bekah fumbled with the buttons on Haymitch's collar as he kissed her neck as she felt his fingers slide gently up her skirt. Haymitch deftly picked her up and carried Bekah, who had her legs wrapped around him, into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.

Haymitch lowered Bekah onto the bed, trailing his lips down her stomach. He let his hand move between her thighs as he returned to kissing Bekah's neck. Haymitch and Bekah spent the next several hours in his room.

 

 

Haymitch laid on his back, breathing heavily, as Bekah was cradled in his arms. Bekah would have loved nothing more than to stay there, his skin on hers, forever. Haymitch traced his fingers along her bare shoulder, "I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't come back."

Haymitch lifted himself up, leaned over him and kissed her lips, "I love you."

Bekah rolled over into his chest, a silly grin on her face. Her stomach made a very loud, rather demanding complaint of hunger; she had not eaten anything substantial in 36 hours. Haymitch chuckled, "Haven't eaten in a while?"

Bekah frowned, "No. Sorry. No fancy 4 course meals available in the arena."

Haymitch slowly and reluctantly got out of the bed, "Well, maybe I should feed you something..." Bekah's stomach gave another rumble, "before you gnaw my arm off," Haymitch added.

Haymitch dressed and returned to the living area while Bekah changed. When she joined Haymitch, they went down to the large diner for supper. While eating, they both noticed several people watching them; Haymitch slyly took Bekah's hand under the table and squeezed it, "They just haven't heard you were removed yet."


	7. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicion about the return of a competitor grows, as well as curiosity regarding the bond with her mentor

Bekah had been out of the arena for four days when Haymitch came to her, requesting that they did not eat in the dining room that night, "I just don't want to be watched anymore." The looks received from the Capitol residents had increased as they began to realize that a tribute was regularly dining alone with her mentor. Bekah nodded in agreement.

Later, she went downstairs; Cinna and the prep team, who had been away since the Games had begun, were returning and he wanted to see her and give their congratulations on returning alive. They greeted her with great excitement, and then Venia, Octavia & Flavius began to screech over the state of Bekah's hair, which was anything but styled.

"Oh! You _must_ let us do something with this!" Octavia said with desperation.

Venia added, "And it looks though the arena drained the life out of you! Your face is so grey!"

Bekah knew they were trying to help, in their own way.

"When was the last time you did something with your eyebrows?" Flavius asked, teasingly scolding Bekah.

"Please. Let us get you back into a presentable state!" Venia said; her kind smile outweighed the offensiveness of her statement.

Bekah sighed, looking at their eager faces; she knew they were genuinely trying to help and it would seriously hurt them if she refused, "Alright."

Octavia squealed, then Bekah followed the four to the prep room.

Flavius tweezed so long, Bekah wondered if she would have any eyebrows left at all. Octavia wanted to put Bekah's hair up elegantly, but Bekah convinced her not to, "I'm just going back to the suite, Octavia. Can you leave it down?"

Octavia nodded, and settled with globbing a yellow paste into Bekah's hair, then tousling it. The thick sticky paste made Bekah's hair shiny and removed all frizz. Venia then attacked Bekah with powders and creams. The end product was much simpler than usual - perhaps Venia understood better than the others that Bekah was merely going to bed - Bekah's natural features were enhanced, her lips untouched, save a shiny gloss.

Cinna was looking smug as he helped Bekah step into a simple blue top and black skirt. Bekah was amazed; they weren't lace or polyester or spandex - they were cotton! Bekah ran the soft fabric through her fingers, relieved Cinna had not chosen anything itchy. Noticing the time, Bekah gave them all swift hugs then hurried back to the suite.

 

 

Bekah opened the suite door to see that no lights were on in the entryway. She walked slowly into the living area and stopped dead; Haymitch had gathered a dozen or more candles, lit them, and placed them around the room.

"You're late," he said.

"I know - Cinna - "

"...accomplished the impossible; he made you even more beautiful."

Bekah blushed, although Haymitch couldn't tell in the dim light.

Haymitch stepped over to Bekah, "Hi. Hungry?"

"Starving."

Haymitch and Bekah had a quiet, romantic dinner, sitting on the living area floor. They were both thankful to be where curious glances and hushed questions would not join them. After their meal, Haymitch pulled Bekah into him, his chest acting as a backrest. He kissed the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Beech turned and swatted him away, "Don't do that!  It tickles!"

"Oh?" Haymitch did it again, smiling mischievously.

Bekah jumped and moved to use the ottoman as a backrest, laughing.

Haymitch followed, and kissed her neck again. Beech squirmed, "Quit that!"  She giggled quietly.

Haymitch shoved the ottoman away and lowered Bekah to lie on the floor, then trailed his fingers across her thigh, "Still funny? Still want me to stop?"

Bekah shook her head.

After removing his shirt, Haymitch unbuttoned Bekah's blouse, kissing her passionately. Beech bit her lip as he ran his hand up her thigh, and slipped her panties off, tossing them aside and pushing up her skirt.  Bekah felt her body shiver as Haymitch slipped his fingers inside her. He kissed her collarbone, murmuring, "I never thought I could love someone this much."

The suite door opened and Effie entered.

 

 

Effie stood, frozen. She was rendered immobilized by the shock of the scene in front of her: Haymitch was shirtless passionately kissing Beech's chest, lying on top of Bekah with his hand under her mostly lifted skirt.  Effie exclaimed, "What on earth is this?"

Haymitch and Bekah froze, Haymitch's mouth on her collarbone. Bekah was the first to move, lifting her head, "Uh..."

Effie picked Bekah's lacey underwear off the floor gingerly, "How - how - what...what is this?"

Haymitch jumped up, then helped Bekah off the floor, "Effie, um, I can explain."

Effie crossed her arms, " _Please_. Try."

Bekah slipped her hand into Haymitch's, lacing their fingers together, and said, "Effie, I think it's fairly obvious."

"Haymitch!" Effie said, "What are you thinking?"

Bekah heard him swallow loudly before he began, "I'm thinking I - ."

Effie shook her head in disapproval, interrupting Haymitch, "You can't possibly - "

"Effie, it is possible." Bekah said.

Effie scoffed and began pacing the room, scolding the pair as she huffed loudly, "How on Earth could this have happened? Entirely unacceptable! The shame! I cannot believe the two of you! How long has this been going on?"

Bekah sighed, "A while."

"A while? How long exactly is _a while_? How long have you been...what is this, _**seeing** each othe_ r? When precisely did this start?"

Haymitch shrugged, "Depends how you define 'start', really..."

Effie pursed her lips, "Start, Haymitch, **start**. That means the beginning."

"Well, then...uh, about two years ago."

Effie was rendered speechless.

"Effie," Bekah spoke quietly, "Do you recall my last interview with Caesar?"

"Yes, the one when all the tributes were talking about their boyfriends or girlfriends."

"Actually, it was their first kiss," Bekah corrected.

"I really don't see how this has anything to do with - "

"It does," Haymitch interrupted.

"Do you remember my story?" Bekah asked Effie.

"Yes. You said it was in a bar..." She trailed off.

"A stranger," Bekah helped her out, "Do you remember when I said that was?"

Effie looked irritated, "Yes, of course I do! You told Caesar it was two years prior."

Bekah and Haymitch waited while Effie made the connection.

Effie's face suddenly shone with comprehension, " _Haymitch_! **You** were the stranger?"

"It was in a bar, wasn't it?" Haymitch remarked, poking fun of himself.

"Haymitch! You are twelve years older than her!"

"I don't see how that matters," Bekah said matter-of-factly.

"I just - I can't believe - this - this is **not** okay!" Effie turned and swiftly left the suite.

Haymitch turned to Bekah, his face full of stress, "This can't be good." Bekah sighed in agreement as he pulled her against himself, wrapping his arms around her.

Haymitch squeezed her tightly.


	8. The Living Tribute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Capital is very interested in Bekah, the only tribute to ever return from the arena alive without winning the Games.

When Effie had still not returned at 2 in the morning, Bekah growled inwardly, "Well, I guess she's not coming back."

"I'm just glad she didn't run to Seneca Crane," Haymitch said.

"What?" Bekah asked, "What makes you say she hasn't?"

"I'm sure I'd have been arrested by now if she had."

" _Arrested_?" Bekah asked, "Why would you be arrested? I'm an adult; you haven't done anything illegal!"

Haymitch shook his head, "Doesn't matter. If the Peacekeepers think it's inappropriate, it becomes illegal."

"That's just ridiculous!"

"I know," Haymitch sighed, "But it's the way things are."

Bekah moved onto the couch, beside him, "Haymitch, you know I'll defend you, right? Should anything...happen."

"I know," Haymitch wrapped his arm around Bekah's shoulders.

 

 

Effie was at breakfast the next morning, apparently having slipped in sometime in the night. The meal was extremely awkward; no one spoke at all. Bekah noticed that Effie was intentionally not letting Haymitch or herself catch her looking at them. The three ate in awkward silence.

This was the same case through lunch and dinner, at the end of which, Haymitch calmly folded his napkin and set it beside his plate, "So, I think it's time we addressed the elephant in the room."

Effie looked at him in silence, and Bekah placed her hand on Haymitch's knee under the table, silently questioning him. He glanced at her reassuringly.

"Elephant?" Effie asked, trying to act clueless.

Sighing, Haymitch said, "Yes, you know...last night."

Effie cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Effie, you have to understand that - "

"I know. Bekah is 19; she is an adult, and so it is not my place to say anything," Effie said simply.

Bekah and Haymitch exchanged a bewildered look.

"Although," Effie continued, "I do think it is highly inappropriate and quite improper. But," she sighed, "as you are both adults, I will not say anything to anyone. I should think that you two shouldn't keep this - whatever it is - hidden much longer; secrecy implies you have something to hide."

Haymitch and Bekah nodded. Bekah thought that, perhaps, even with her fussy demeanor, Effie might genuinely have a bit of compassion within her, "Effie, thank you," Bekah said.

 

 

Haymitch and Bekah found themselves alone once again that evening, "Haymitch, Effie's right."

"Maybe," he replied sarcastically, "Maybe we should just jump onstage with the victor, whoever it ends up being, and announce it to the whole country!"

"Haymitch, I'm serious."

"I know. I just can't think of how to say it," he frowned, "Give me a few days to think of something."

Bekah nodded and went to bed. She stayed awake most of the night, her mind reeling over what they should do.

Bekah had patiently waited for Haymitch to tell her he had found a solution, but on the third morning, when he had not yet thought of an answer, Bekah began to panic. _What would happen if someone found out? How would everyone react?_

At about 5:30, Effie came to Bekah, frantic, "Oh dear, they've just decided they want to interview you!"

Bekah couldn't think of why, " ** _What_**?"

"You're the very first tribute to ever come out of the arena without being a victor!"

"Oh. Right." Beech was irritated; she had much bigger concerns that needed her attention; now she'd have to go through yet another makeover, and _ugh!_ another interview.

Effie led Bekah to the prep room once again, leaving her in the team's hands. Bekah's brain was too busy worrying to really care much about being scrubbed, waxed, and painted. Before she knew it, she was standing just offstage in a deep red dress, her hair in a very uncomfortable updo, waiting for Caesar to prompt her onstage.

"And here is the girl who somehow managed to leave the arena, both alive and without a victor's crown; how did she do it? Let's ask her; here's Bekah Webber: the first living tribute of the Hunger Games!"

Beech sat in the chair across from Caesar and waited for him to silence the crowd.  When the audience was mostly quiet, the man turned to her, "So, Bekah, how exactly did you manage this impossible feat?"

Bekah shrugged, "I didn't really do anything, Caesar; I just happened to turn nineteen five days into the Game."

Caesar then asked her several mind-numbingly obvious questions like, "Were you relieved when you were removed?"   _No; I was hoping to be slaughtered_  or ""Are you glad to be out of the arena?" _Nope; of course not - I enjoy constantly being afraid for my life._

And then, much to Bekah's surprise, Caesar wanted to interview Effie. She was unusually chipper; probably because escorts were rarely interviewed. Bekah was even more stunned when Caesar introduced her friend from 12 - Bekah had no clue she was even there. Her friend admitted she was stunned that Bekah hadn't been killed in the few days she had been in the arena.

And then Caesar introduced Haymitch. Apparently mentoring a non-victor tribute that lived called for extensive questioning.

"Haymitch, Bekah is the first tribute from District 12 since you to come out of the arena. How does that affect you?"

"Well, obviously I'm overjoyed that a tribute from 12 will be returning home," Haymitch said, "And I couldn't think of someone more deserving of the lucky break Bekah got."

Caesar thanked Haymitch and shook his hand before Haymitch walked offstage.

"Well, we've heard from the living tribute and one of her friends, and we've talked to the mentor; I think we should have a chat with one of _his_ friends!" Caesar announced.

A very tall dark-skinned man walked onstage, clearly a bit intoxicated. Bekah was dumbfounded when she saw that one of his arms ended in a stump; this was the man that had been in the bar with Haymitch two years earlier!

"Ah, Chaff!" Caesar said, "So, as you know, your friend, Haymitch, has just had a tribute return from the games... _alive_. What do you think about this?"

Chaff shrugged, "Lucky girl."

Caesar had obviously been hoping for more, "What do you think of her? Have you ever spoken with her?"

Chaff shook his head, "Nah, not directly. I think I ran into her a couple of years back, though." Chaff looked off behind Caesar and met Bekah's eyes, "I know Haymitch did, though. I remember because we were in this shit hole of a bar. Haymitch was drunk. Yeah, I'm positive Haymitch ran into her," Chaff winked at Bekah.

_Oh. My. God! Thanks, Chaff! You may as well have just announced our relationship outright!_

Caesar stumbled over his words, "What? How do you mean?"

_Don't elaborate. Don't elaborate. Don't elaborate._

"Yeah, it was on the Victory Tour with my victor, Joseph. Haymitch and I had spent the afternoon sucking down brandys and whiskeys, then we went to this one bar." Chaff said.

Bekah was frantically shaking her head offstage, trying to signal to Chaff to stop with the story. He didn't see her, "Well, we went to this bar, little crumby thing, and I was hounding him about his... _romancing abilities._..and he saw this real pretty girl sitting at the bar with an ice water, and he just kissed her! Poor thing looked so stunned, but I think he's grown on her."

The audience buzzed with whispers.


	9. Damn it, Chaff!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaff's comments in his interview shocked everyone and may have disastrous consequences...

Bekah marched into the apex just outside the stage entrance, flustered, a touch angry, and, most of all, worried. She kept her head down, trying to ignore the murmurings of those gossiping about her. She approached the small huddle made up of Cinna, her prep team, Effie, and Chaff.

" _Really_?" she snapped at the hulking man, "I cannot _believe_ you told that story!"

Chaff mumbled something unintelligible.

Haymitch suddenly sprinted toward the group, grasped Chaff's collar and shoved him into the wall, "Are you out of your mind, Chaff, you idiot?!"

Effie, the prep team and Cinna backed out of the way. Bekah had never seen Haymitch so angry; his jaw was clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth, "We could both be arrested. Didn't think of that, did you?"

Bekah cleared her throat loudly, and Haymitch released his friend, then stood at Bekah's side. She could feel him shaking with anger next to her.

The hall began to fill with whispers and mutterings, and the crowd parted. Two Capitol officials advanced on the small group, and without warning, without a word uttered, each grabbed one of Haymitch's arms and forced him down the hall.

"What is this?" Haymitch asked, "What are you doing?"

Neither uniformed officer acknowledged him.

"Excuse me!" Bekah shouted; the men stopped and one of them walked swiftly back to Bekah; the other kept a firm hold on Haymitch's elbow. The official strode toward Bekah, his eyes were cold and empty; Bekah wondered if he even had a soul.

"Is there a problem?" Bekah demanded once he had come to a halt in front of her.

"It has come to our attention that this man, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, has been engaging in an inappropriate relationship with a tribute; he is, as of now, in the custody of the Capitol, pending review. His sentence will be determined by a panel within 3 days," the soulless man said, as though rehearsing a script, then strode quickly back to seize Haymitch's arm.

The officials hauled Haymitch through the apex and out the steel double doors.

 

 

 

Throwing herself face-down on her bed, Bekah grabbed a pillow and covered her head to muffle the sounds of her sobbing. _Haymitch had been arrested! Because he was with her. No, because **of** her_.

Bekah wept for an hour before Chaff knocked on her door.

"Go away," Bekah said, "Whoever you are, go away."

Though she had demanded to be left alone, Bekah heard her door open, then felt a weight at her feet, indicating someone had sat on the end of her bed.

"I thought they all knew," Chaff said apologetically.

Bekah growled and sat bolt upright, "Well, you were _obviously_ wrong!"

"I apologize for this happening," he said, "I'll let you be."

Bekah watched through swollen eyes as he left and closed the door behind himself.

 

 

 

Haymitch was thrown into a chair located in a small, dark room, his hands tied together at the wrists, resting in his lap. After 5 minutes' time, the door opened loudly, and a dozen bright lights were turned on; Haymitch squeezed his eyes closed; they had adjusted to the dark and were now screaming in protest to the sudden change.

"So," a voice said, "I hear you've been playing a _game_ or two of your own."

Daring to crack his eyes, Haymitch saw a tall, well-muscled man in a suit standing in the corner.

"I haven't," Haymitch said.

"That's not what your pal Chaff said."

"Chaff is a drunken fool."

The man laughed ironically, "Some would say the same of you."

Haymitch was now able to open his eyes fully, "What is this _really_ about? Surely all this," he held up his wrists, which were bound tightly with thick rope, "isn't just over an intoxicated Victor's speculation."

" _Speculation_? You mean to say his...assumptions...were wrong? Have you, a tribute mentor, not been engaging in a relationship that is questionable, with a tribute?"

Haymitch remained silent.

The interrogator caught Haymitch's cheekbone with a solid punch, dazing him.

 

 

 

Refusing to leave her room, Bekah cried for two days. On the evening of the third day of Haymitch's arrest, Chaff and Effie requested that Bekah join them in the living area.

She sat down wearily on the couch, "Have you heard yet?" she whispered.

Chaff and Effie exchanged a look.

"Bekah, yes," Chaff said slowly.

"And? Are they releasing him?"

"No, Bekah, they're not," Effie refused to look at Bekah.

" _What_? What do you mean? They're not going to keep him in jail forever."

Chaff cleared his throat, then Effie spoke, "Bekah, dear, I'm so sorry."

Bekah blinked.

"They decided he 'engaged in relations not becoming of a mentor'. That's what they said; their words," Chaff reached out and took Beech's hand, "They determined his actions were inexcusably severe, and have sentenced him to be...eliminated."

Bekah's hand fell out of Chaff's, "What? No. You mean...he's going to be executed?" She swallowed. _This could not be happening. This couldn't be real._ Haymitch will be gone. His eyes would never sparkle in laughter, never smolder in the dark when he made love to her. His arms would never again hold her. He would not be waiting for her when she returned home. _If I hadn't ever come along, Haymitch never would've gotten into this mess._ This was all her fault. Bekah began to hyperventilate. Haymitch had become her future, and without him, the shining element in her life would cease to exist. She may as well have died in the arena; at least Haymitch would have continued on.

"Yes, Bekah," Effie said softly, "Haymitch has been sentenced to death."


	10. Stealing Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate for any possible way to help Haymitch, Bekah has a crazy idea, but she needs to get into a private room to put the plan in motion

"When?" Bekah asked, her voice hoarse.

"Tuesday," Chaff said. 

Bekah nodded, her mind working furiously, "That's in 4 days."

 _Haymitch would die in 96 hours_. Bekah felt dizzy.

After taking a few deep breaths, she silently left the living area. 

Bekah went to Haymitch's room, and stood by his bed, numb. She felt her eyes fill with sadness. Bekah blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on Haymitch's pillow, leaving a small dot of wetness on the grey fabric of the pillowcase. Bekah watched it turn a slightly darker shade of grey than the pillow around it as her tear was absorbed into it, and it was gone. Just as Haymitch, her everything, would soon be; Bekah fell onto his bed, burying her face in the slightly scratchy, overstuffed pillow. Tears poured from her eyes and she sobbed uncontrollably. Feeling another bout of hyperventilation coming, Bekah forced herself to take a deep breath. The pillow still had the woodsy scent Bekah had come to love; she recalled being enveloped by the earthy aroma each time Haymitch had wrapped his arms around her. This brought on another episode of weeping. _I will never get him back. He is gone forever. I will never see him again_. He would never hold her again. She would never again fall asleep to this soothing smell and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as her head laid it. That thought is what truly made Bekah break; she curled into a ball, jerked the pillow from under herself and covered her head with it, not caring if she suffocated. She fell asleep, finally, after hours of crying, her face damp and the pillow drenched with tears.

Bekah did not move from her position on Haymitch's bed for two days; she did not eat, she did not see anyone, she was frozen. Her world had crumbled around her.

Finally lifting herself up, Bekah was stiff as she sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, for 3 hours.

Attempting to clear her hazy mind, she shook her head, then shuffled into the living area slowly.

"Ah," Chaff, who had apparently been in a quiet conversation with Effie, said, "I told you there was no need to check on her. See, she's fine." 

"I would hardly say she is 'fine', Chaff," Effie said, "Look at her! She's anything _but_ fine; she's a wreck!" Effie hurried to Bekah and hugged her, "Dear, I cannot imagine..."

Bekah wearily sat on an armchair once Effie had released her, then watched through swollen eyes as Effie and Chaff exchanged whispered concerns.

The pair came to sit with her, Effie taking a seat on the couch. Bekah blinked with incomprehension as Chaff pulled the second armchair over across from Bekah, then collapsed into it. 

"Bekah," he said, "I am so unbelievably sorry for what I've caused; nothing I can say could ever repair the damage." 

Bekah sniffed, forcing herself not to cry in front of Effie and Chaff.

Chaff moved to the edge of his armchair and took Bekah's hand, "I thought everyone knew. I mean, I could tell - Haymitch never said a word to me. It was the way he looked at you. His eyes lit up like I'd never seen. I assumed everyone else could tell; you'd have to be either stupid or blind not to have seen it, that he loved you, I mean. When he looked at you, it was obvious you were everything to him." 

At this, Bekah's determination shattered and she sobbed again.

After giving Bekah's hand a light squeeze, he said, "I just thought that, well, with the questions and all...I mean, Caesar seemed to already know."

Bekah lifted her head and looked at Chaff. **_Caesar_**! Caesar had a kind of inside loop with the Capitol; maybe he could somehow get an interview with Haymitch, giving him a chance to explain. Surely if the nation heard, they would call for Haymitch's sentence to be lifted!

 

 

Bekah would have to wait until the morning to ask Caesar; it was 3 in the morning - too late to go knocking on someone's door. She didn't want to upset him; if she was going to ask Caesar for a favor, Bekah needed to be in his good graces. She stayed awake all night, wanting to make her request as early as possible.

 

At 9, Bekah dressed, put her hair in a ponytail, and went into the living area.

 Effie was sitting at the table, perusing over a magazine. She jumped when Bekah said her name.

 "Yes, dear?"

"Do you know where I could find Caesar?"

"Flickerman?" Effie looked puzzled.

"He's the only Caesar I know of," Bekah said, "other than Julian."

Effie nodded, "Of course; how silly of me. Caesar usually takes breakfast in his room, but he always eats lunch and dinner in the dining hall."

 

Bekah bit her lip, thinking. She had hoped Caesar would have been able to talk to Haymitch that evening. She couldn't wait several hours to make her request. Bekah hurried down to the dining hall and, after walking through it twice and seeing no sign of him, she decided she would have to find out where Caesar's room was. As she was on her way out of the hall, just by chance, she heard a waitress announce, "Order for Caesar Flickerman?"

  _Spectacular! I can just follow whoever is delivering his food; they'll lead me straight to his room!_

"Caesar Flickerman?" the waitress called again. After another two announcements and no one claiming the order, Bekah saw a perfect opportunity and seized it.

She approached the waitress holding the tray of Caesar's breakfast of a sausage croissant, over-easy eggs and a glass of orange juice, "Did you say Flickerman?" 

"Yeah," the waitress answered, obviously miffed, "You deaf?"

Bekah quickly took the tray and asked, "Do you know what room this goes to? Sorry; I'm filling in for someone." _I didn't lie. I am filling in for someone; they just don't know it_.

"Nah, but it says on the ticket there."

Balancing the tray on her arm, Bekah picked up a small order ticket she hadn't noticed; it read:

 

Caesar E. Flickerman 

STE 12-2304

 

"Oh. Sorry!" Bekah apologized, then hurried off to find Building 12.

She easily located the tall, narrow building and opened the heavy, glass door, being careful not to spill the precariously balanced orange juice. Luckily, the elevator was only a little way away from the entrance; she waved her palm in front of the motion-activated button, and in a moment, the shiny metal doors opened. Bekah pressed #23 and the elevator zoomed upward.


	11. A Request For Caesar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bekah asks for something she never dreamt she'd want - an interview.

Bekah knocked twice on the door to Suite 2304. She heard Caesar Flickerman say, "I thought you got lost, Yuri." as he opened the door.

Bekah smiled shyly, "I don't know what happened to Yuri, but I heard a lady call out that your order was ready; after 20 minutes, I figured I'd just deliver it myself." 

Caesar nodded, "Ah, thank you."

He took the tray from Bekah and set it on a nearby table.

"Um, Caesar," Bekah said nervously, "I, uh, I know this isn't really appropriate, but, er..."

Caesar looked curiously at Bekah, "Please, sit."

Bekah awkwardly sat on the very edge of a dining chair. 

Caesar sat as well, "What can I do for you, Miss Webber?"

"I wasn't sure you'd remember me." 

"Now, now," he replied, "I can't forget a tribute that made as much of a stir as you." 

"Caesar, they arrested Haymitch." 

Caesar frowned, "Why?" 

Bekah sighed, then mocked the official's voice, " _He engaged in inappropriate relations with a tribute_."

"Oh."

"And, um, I actually...I was wondering if, since he didn't actually do anything illegal, if you could maybe try and interview him? To let everyone see how insane his arrest was. You know, get his side of the story: the truth."

Caesar sighed, "Miss Webber, we cannot interview someone who is in the Capitol's custody."

"You're kidding."

"No; it hasn't been allowed for years."

Bekah nodded, feeling tears fill her eyes as her last shred of hope was ripped away. 

"You really believe this was an unjust arrest?" 

Bekah stood to leave, tears flowing freely, "Yes."

"I truly am very sorry, Bekah." 

Bekah headed to the door. 

"I cannot interview him," she heard Caesar say, "but I could you."

Bekah turned around, "What?"

" _You_ could explain to the people what really happened." 

"Do you think that'll do any good?" 

Caesar hesitated, then said, "It's worth a try, isn't it? Be ready at 8 tomorrow night."

Bekah could've hugged him. There still might be a chance! A tiny glimmer of hope sparked in her soul as she left Caesar's suite.

 

 

Bekah was seated in a chair across from Caesar at 7:30 the next evening, nervously waiting for 8 o'clock, when the interview would begin. She bit her thumbnail nervously, recalling the plan of what they were going to say. The time seemed to tick by at an unusually sluggish pace, and Bekah wished it would go faster; the sooner this was televised, the sooner Haymitch would possibly be released. Caesar stepped offstage, and quickly returned, carrying two glasses of water. Bekah took the glass he offered her, and sipped on it slowly. The silence was deafening; nothing was able to fill the void lingering in the air...nothing except the ominously prominent sound of feet shuffling awkwardly offstage, the occasional cough of a cameraman. The tension in the theatre was almost palpable; it was as though everyone knew a life was in jeopardy, balancing precariously on the edge of tragedy. It was as though everyone knew this, and no one would let Bekah forget it; she got no reprieve, no opportunity to de-stress, no chance to think without having the horrible reality of it looming over her.

 

Finally, the cameraman signaled that there were only 60 seconds until Bekah and Caesar would be on-air. At his nod, Caesar began:

"Hello and welcome to the audience and to all our viewers! This evening was not initially scheduled for an interview, but when Miss Bekah Webber here told me of some shocking news, I was certain the information would be of great interest to everyone!"

 

Caesar gave the camera a winning smile, then turned to Bekah, suddenly somber, "Bekah, would you like to share with everyone what you told me earlier?"

Bekah swallowed. She felt her voice shaking, "Yes, Caesar." _You can do this. You have to do this. Haymitch's life depends on it. **Haymitch**._  

"Caesar, do you recall the interviews before the Games began?" Caesar nodded.

"Specifically, the one when I told you about my first kiss?" 

"Yes; I think we all remember that."

"Okay. Well, do you remember when you interviewed Chaff?"

"Yes."

"Well, I have a confession," she turned to look into the camera, "A lot of you may have made the connection, but, for those of you that haven't, I will elaborate," taking a deep breath and letting it out, she continued, "Two years ago, I received my first kiss in a bar. He was a stranger to me then, but isn't anymore; we are actually, well, sort of dating, in a way. When Caesar interviewed Chaff, he was told about a time when Chaff and a friend were in a bar, and his friend kissed a girl he didn't know." Bekah hated having to spell all of this out; _some people were so dense_! "Well, as it turns out, it was Chaff's friend who had kissed me."

Caesar saw that Bekah was beginning to have trouble continuing; he took her hand reassuringly, "Bekah? Are you sure you want to continue this interview?"

Beech nodded, brushing a tear from her cheek, "I have to." 

She sat in silence for a moment, trying to push back her tears, then said, "Caesar, do you know who Chaff's friend was?"

Caesar remained silent; they had practiced this, aiming for dramatic effect.

"It was Haymitch Abernathy," Bekah said; speaking his name aloud somehow gave her a burst of confidence, and a surge of determination, "Haymitch Abernathy." 

Caesar did an extraordinary job at feigning surprise, gasping, "Your _mentor_?"

"Yes."

"But...he's your _mentor_."

"I'm aware that it's unorthodox, Caesar. However, I don't believe these things are within our control."

Caesar stumbled for a response; she had merely shrugged in their practice interview, "Um...what things, exactly, Bekah?"

"I don't think you get to pick who you fall in love with." Bekah took a deep breath once more; she nor Haymitch had ever confessed their love for each other to anyone.

Caesar was dumbfounded, "You love him?"

Bekah nodded, "Yes."

Caesar attempted to get the conversation back on track, "Do you think the feeling is mutual?"

"I know it is."

Caesar saw an opening for a question they had planned, "So, where is Haymitch tonight?"

 "Caesar, he was arrested." 

Another perfectly timed gasp, "What? Why?"

"Apparently because of me."

"No...how could that be?" 

Beech forced herself to say the truth, the truth that could earn her the same fate as Haymitch, "Apparently, the Capitol can tell us who we can be with now. And, Caesar, that's not the worst part."

"What could be worse?"

"His sentence."

 "What sentence is that?" 

"Death, Caesar; they're going to execute him."

Although she had promised herself she wouldn't cry - not on TV - Bekah burst into tears.

Caesar placed his hand on hers once more, "You really do love him, don't you?"

Bekah nodded, then quietly answered, "More than anything."

 

  

Effie approached Bekah the next evening, "They are still refusing to change their minds. Caesar just spoke with me."

 ** _No._** _It had to work; it was my last idea, a last ditch effort!_  

Bekah fled to Haymitch's room, throwing herself facedown onto his bed. Haymitch was dying tomorrow. A life without Haymitch? Bekah could not fathom it. She felt her stomach lurch dangerously. Acid burned her throat. Bekah ran to the bathroom, barely leaning her head over the toilet bowl in time to catch her vomit. Bekah was overcome with tears once more as she lowered herself to the floor. **_Haymitch_**. _I should've told him how deeply I care for him. I'll never get the chance again._ Bekah heaved again over the toilet. His eyes would never shine again. He was going to be snuffed out as though no one cared. Bekah wanted to die. If Haymitch was dying, she wanted to die with him. They had an unspoken understanding that they would be together forever, and now Bekah would have to spend her life without him. Bekah leaned over the toilet, tears pouring from her eyes as she puked. Bekah fell to the icy floor, curled into a ball, shaking uncontrollably, and dozed into a shallow sleep.

 

Haymitch would cease to be in just 24 hours.


	12. Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch's execution is today. Bekah races to save him, but will the horrible president listen to reason?

At noon the day of Haymitch's execution, Bekah woke with a jolt. She was immediately wide awake, and filled with a new resolve. Having spent the night on the hard marble floor of the bathroom, Bekah's mind had taken the aches and pains of the solid surface and turned them into dreams: she had dreamed of nothing but how much agony she would be in once Haymitch was gone, how he must be hurting as he approached his death. She sat up, stiff and achy from her uncomfortable night. She slowly stood, getting sharp bolt of pain down her back and up her thigh. Haymitch is being executed today. A stab of agonizing pain shot through her heart, and struck down to her toes. She fell back to the floor. With shaking legs, Bekah attempted again, but her body did not want to exert the energy it would take to stand. On her third attempt, Bekah raised herself enough to place her forearms on the counter; she heaved herself up, then held onto the counter until her legs decided to cooperate. She held onto the wall as she stumbled into the living area.

"Did you sleep in the bathroom?" Effie asked from the sofa.

Bekah nodded and headed to a chair, using furniture along the way to steady herself. She collapsed into the chair, groaning in pain.

"Are you alright?" Effie asked. Realizing that was a ridiculous question, considering the day was Haymitch's last, Effie shook her head, "I mean, are you sore or something?"

"There's a reason beds aren't marble. I hurt."

"What hurts exactly? I may have something for it."

"What hurts?" Bekah repeated. Her head fell back against the chair, "My everything. Everything hurts, Effie."

Effie frowned, then grabbed the large banana-yellow bag from the table next to her and began to dig through it. Bekah watched as Effie took bags of pills, bottles of tablets, and liquid droppers from the bag.

"Effie! You're a walking pharmacy!"

Effie shook her head, "Most of these are preventative...but, I think this," she handed Bekah three brownish-green pills, "might help. They taste wretched, but you'll be ache-free in 5 minutes."

Desperate for relief, Bekah swallowed the pills without water. She immediately wished she hadn't; Effie had been right - the pills tasted like burnt rubber. Even worse, after they were down, her throat burned with an acid; it felt as though she had drank chlorine.

Bekah shuddered, "Blech!"

Effie shook her head, "I warned you."

"Uh, Effie, what time...is...are they...will it happen?" Bekah was unsure if she really wanted to know.

"Two o'clock, dear," Effie replied quietly.

Bekah buried her face in her hands. Tears yet again streamed down her face, "I don't understand, Effie! How can two people be so unlucky? He was a tribute, he had to kill so many people...and when he got home, his family was murdered! No one deserves that; especially not Haymitch. He may drink, but he has a good heart, Effie. He's a good person." Bekah lifted her head.

"I know he is. He told a story one time about how his little brother was afraid of the dark, and he sold his best knife to get him a nightlight."

Bekah smiled inwardly. Haymitch had never told her that. He probably hadn't told her a lot of things yet...and now he never would, "This never would've happened had I been born just a week earlier!"

"Oh, sweetie, Haymitch still would've felt the same."

"Maybe. But I never would've been picked as a tribute to begin with!"

"And you wouldn't have been with him as much..."

"No, but I would've turned 19 sooner, so I would've been sent home sooner."

Effie pursed her lips, "Maybe, but you still would've been a tribute until your birthday."

Bekah lifted her head from her hands, "I'm still a tribute, Effie."

Shaking her head, Effie said, "No. Once you turn 19, you are ineligible, and therefore are no longer a tribute."

"What?" Bekah jumped up, and noticed she was no longer even the least bit sore. She rushed to her room and changed with baffling speed into pants and a moderately nice blouse. Bekah hunted for her shoes, but gave up after looking twice in both her bathroom and bedroom. No one would pay attention to her feet. Bolting out the door, Bekah asked Effie, "Where is this taking place?"

"Top floor, Judgment Room," Bekah heard Effie call out as she closed the suite door behind herself. Sprinting as fast as humanly possible down the hall, Bekah felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. In the elevator, which Bekah perceived to be practically staying still because of how slowly it was going, she swiftly ran her fingers through her hair, then pushed it out of her face. The doors opened on the 50th floor, and Bekah bolted down the hallway, following the signs pointing to the Judgment Room. She found it, and burst through the doors.

The sight in front of her was worse than she'd feared: Haymitch was bound in a chair, in the middle of a sort of mini-courtroom, the president and several other officials perched in raised seats all around him. Bekah gasped when she looked more closely at Haymitch; his face was swollen almost beyond recognition, he had a black eye, his lip was busted open, his shirt bloody and his hair dripping - they had tortured him!

A single man in a tailored suit sauntered toward Haymitch, raising a gun to his head. Haymitch, whose eyes had previously been focused on the floor, looked up and saw Bekah, "Go, Bekah! Leave. You don't need to watch this," he shouted to her.

Bekah ran to him, "Haymitch!"

Suddenly, someone grabbed Bekah's arm and whipped her around. It was Seneca Crane.

He looked icily at her, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to ask you to spare this man," Bekah said.

Seneca laughed cruelly.

Bekah crossed her arms and went to stand between Haymitch and the man pointing the gun at him, "You can't kill an innocent person."

The man whipped the butt of the gun fiercely across Bekah's cheek, then cocked it, aiming the barrel at her head, "I wasn't planning to, but..."

"Actually, you were," Bekah stood her ground, and bravely turned her back to the gun-wielding man to address the president, "Mr. Snow, it seems as though you have only just avoided executing an innocent man."

"Excuse me," President Snow said, "But this man is, in fact, a criminal."

"May I ask his crime?"

Snow chuckled, "You should be well aware of them, as you were involved."

Bekah frowned, "What was his crime?" she demanded.

"Relations not appropriate of a mentor toward a tribute."

It was Bekah's turn to chuckle, "He did no such thing."

"Excuse me?"

"Haym - Mr. Abernathy did not behave inappropriately toward a tribute."

"Are you denying a romantic involvement exists between you?"

Bekah looked at Haymitch, "Not at all, Mr. Snow."

"And you think that a romantic relationship is appropriate between a mentor and a tribute?"

"That isn't the issue, sir."

Snow folded his hands, "Then what exactly is the issue?"

Bekah shrugged, "There is no issue."

"Enlighten us, please," Snow said condescendingly.

"No problem. May I ask you first to clarify the definition of a tribute?"

Snow appeased her by reciting, "A tribute is a contestant in The Hunger Games."

Bekah nodded, "Okay, and what are the requirements of a tribute?"

"For a male or female to qualify, and be considered a tribute, he or she must be - a.) chosen by means of an unbiased reaping; b.) must be from a district that has had no tribute of the same gender the current year; and c.) be between the ages of - no younger and no older than - 12 years of age and 18 years of age."

"Thank you," Bekah said, "Could you define a mentor, please?"

Snow huffed, "A mentor is a victor from a previous Game who aids and advises the tributes from the district of their own origin."

Bekah nodded, "Okay...so, if a tribute is 19, they are no longer a tribute?"

Snow nodded.

"And, unless a mentor is aiding or advising a tribute, they are no longer that the tribute's mentor?"

Snow sighed, "That's correct."

Seneca threw his arms up in frustration, "What does this have to do with the issue at hand?"

"Well, Mr. Crane," Bekah said, "I turned 19 two weeks ago."

"And...?"

"So therefore, I am not technically a tribute," Bekah said, "And if I am not a tribute, Hay - Mr. Abernathy could not, in reality, be my mentor, as I am not a tribute."

No one spoke.

"Right?" Bekah asked.

Snow sighed heavily, "You are indeed correct."

Bekah flashed a quick grin at Haymitch, who was to weary to do more than attempt a feeble smile, then addressed the president once more, "So, I expect Mr. Abernathy will be released?"

Seneca huffed as Snow answered, "I see that we have no other option. We shall let him out of our custody, and he will be released this evening." Bekah noticed that the man bearing the gun had holstered it and was now staring at Haymitch, cracking his knuckles; her stomach lurched.

Bekah swallowed hard, then spoke once more, "This evening? Why not now? So your steroid-lackey can beat him some more? No. He will be released immediately." Bekah took out her phone and snapped a quick photo of Haymitch, bloody and broken, then found Caesar's email address, "Caesar Flickerman would love to make this public; he will be receiving this photo very shortly."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Snow asked.

"I prefer the term 'negotiating'; 'blackmail' sounds so...manipulative," Bekah noted.

"He can leave with you," Snow conceded, obviously reluctant and irritated.


	13. Last To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is everyone acting very oddly around Bekah and Haymitch?

Several hours later, Bekah was sitting in the living area of their suite, anxiously awaiting Effie and Haymitch's return; Effie had come to Haymitch's rescue, taking him to a friend she had, who would heal his injuries. Hearing someone at the door, Bekah jumped up.

Effie entered, followed by Haymitch. Bekah was astonished at his transformation; his face was no longer swollen, the darkness of his blackened eye had faded almost completely, and he had changed into fresh clothes.

He still looked a bit stiff, but he was smiling as he approached Bekah and took her face in his hands, "You're so stupid, Bekah."

Knowing he was scolding her for standing up to President Snow and Seneca, she grinned, "I know. But I saved your drunk ass."

Haymitch chuckled, "They really would've killed me; you saved my life."

Bekah faked a stern look, "And don't you forget it."

"Trust me, I won't," Haymitch said before kissing her deeply.

After a moment of Bekah and Haymitch being caught up in the moment, Effie cleared her throat awkwardly, "Ahem. Haymitch, aren't you hungry?"

 

Haymitch reluctantly pulled away from Bekah, "Come on," he said to her, then took her hand and led her down to the dining hall for supper. They sat at a small table. After they had finished their meal, Haymitch and Bekah headed toward the exit. Haymitch suddenly said, "Hold on. I'll be right back."

Bekah gave him a puzzled look.

"I want to talk to Caesar," Haymitch said, then left to approach Caesar's table.

Bekah watched Haymitch have a rather long conversation with Caesar, during which both Caesar and Haymitch frequently glanced her way.

On his return, Bekah asked, "What was that about?"

"Oh, ah, I just wanted to thank him for doing that interview with you."

_How did he know about that? He was arrested at the time..._

"They let you watch television?"

Haymitch paused, "Uh, it was on just outside where they kept me."

"Uh, okay," Bekah said, bewildered. _He was hiding something._

 

 

 

The following morning, Haymitch was nowhere to be found. Bekah frowned at breakfast, "Effie; where's Haymitch?" 

Effie picked up her mimosa and took several gulps before even looking at Bekah, "Oh, he's not around."

_Thanks, Effie. I'd worked that much out myself._

"Well, do you know where?" Bekah worried that the Capitol officials had thought up some new reason to arrest him, simply because they were mad he got away last time.

"I believe he mentioned something about needing to grab some things from the shops."

Bekah noticed Effie's voice was shaky. _Effie was lying. Why would she lie? Moreover, what did Effie even have that Bekah couldn't know?_

Deciding not to push the issue, Bekah ate her waffle in silence. She drained her glass of orange juice, then said, "I'm going to shower." 

"Oh," Effie said, "Bekah, Caesar wants to interview you and Haymitch at six; you should head to the prep room."

Bekah sighed. _More interviews! Ugh!_

 

 

Sighing, Bekah headed toward the prep room as Effie had suggested.  Once there, Bekah was scrubbed four times, waxed three, and had her hair washed twice. Octavia put a slimy red product in Bekah's hair, saying, "This will make the color more vibrant."

The slime had to stay in Bekah's hair for over an hour, then be washed out twice more.

It seemed to Bekah as though Flavius, Venia, and Octavia were all very nervous; Flavius had pinched her twice with the tweezers while plucking - he had never done that before; Venia's hands were shaking viciously as she did Bekah's makeup - Flavius had to redo Bekah's eyeliner; Octavia nearly set Bekah's hair on fire while curling it - Venia rushed to take over. Cinna was the only one who wasn't on edge, although he did seem to be giving Bekah an odd look as he helped her step into a black knee-length dress and silver heels.

Effie led Bekah to the stage without saying much, although glancing at her repeatedly.

Everyone's peculiar behavior made Bekah anxious; she bit her thumb nail nervously just offstage. She felt a hand on her hip, and heard Haymitch say, "Don't bite your nails." Bekah turned around quickly, and Haymitch pulled her into a quick embrace, and Bekah's nervousness melted away in his arms.

They were soon called onstage, and they walked hand in hand to stand near Caesar.

Caesar asked Haymitch about the event at the bar two years earlier, wanting to hear the story from his point of view. Haymitch told essentially the same story as Bekah had, although more humorously, so the audience laughed raucously.

Caesar joined in good-naturedly, then asked, "So, Haymitch, did you recognize Bekah at the reaping?"

Haymitch nodded.

"And what were you thinking as she walked onto that stage?"

Haymitch cleared his throat and rubbed his chin before answering, "Well, obviously I don't jump for joy over any tribute. But Bekah getting picked was very...complex. I had conflicting reactions; on one hand, I was glad that I'd get a chance to spend time with her, but, on the other hand, I was terrified for her, and terrified that I may never get the chance to tell her how I felt - feel." 

The crowd let out a loud "Aww".

Caesar nodded, "And how do you feel, Haymitch?"

Haymitch looked at his feet briefly, then said, "That I love her." Haymitch turned to face Bekah, taking both of her hands in his, and took a very deep breath before saying, "Bekah, I didn't know I could feel this way - the way I feel about you." He smiled at her, a mixture of laughter and love in his eyes, "Until your interview, I didn't realize my kiss was your first. But I know I want mine to be your last," Haymitch held a shimmering golden diamond ring in front of her, "Will you be my last kiss?"

Bekah blinked, staring at him. She hesitated, but not because she didn't know the answer; she wanted to be sure of the question. She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from his. Bekah felt a rush of uncertainty, "Haymitch...what...are you asking me to - "

"I am."

Bekah suddenly understood her prep team's jitters; they had all known of his plan to ask her this. A small squeak escaped her, "Then, yes, of course."

A smile spread across Haymitch's face, and he slid the engagement ring on her hand before taking her in his arms as the crowd cheered.

 

 

 

Back in the suite, Bekah noticed that Effie wasn't there, "Where's..."

"She thought we might like to have this evening alone," Haymitch said.

Bekah pulled him down, bringing his lips to hers, "She was right."

Haymitch kissed Bekah passionately, and deeply, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Bekah unbuttoned his shirt as he kissed her neck. Haymitch suddenly took her hands, halting her, "Bekah, stop."

Bekah frowned, "What?"

"I have to know...did you say yes only because we were in front of all those people?"

She made a face, and sucked air in through her teeth, "I couldn't say no, could I?  Geez, that would've been embarrassing for you!" Bekah laughed, "Haymitch, do you think I would do that?"

Haymitch smirked, "Maybe, you're kinda mean sometimes." 

Bekah playfully hit his shoulder. She said, "Haymitch, I can think of nothing that would make me happier." 

Haymitch made a guttural growl, then tore Bekah's dress up over her head. He pulled her against him, and Bekah could feel him hard on her hip. Haymitch pushed Bekah into his bedroom and onto his bed. Bekah had never seen him like this; he was hungrily kissing her chest. He trailed these passionate kisses down then her stomach, and then he ripped her panties off and continued to move his mouth lower down her body. 

Bekah could not believe this was real. Haymitch kissed her mouth, and slid himself inside her, continuously keeping his mouth on hers.

Feeling a heat in her abdomen, Bekah squirmed under his body, biting her lip, holding in a groan. Haymitch brought his thumb to her mouth, brushed it across her lips, and whispered, "No one is here. Let go."


	14. The Games Are Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A winner returns from the Games.

A week went by, and the Hunger Games were over. Logan returned, weary, dirty, broken, and exhausted, but he returned as a victor; Bekah could not believe that the slender, rather squirrelly 16 year old had won. Effie escorted Logan back to the suite, where Portia, his own stylist, Bekah and Haymitch waited to congratulate him. Everyone was excited; Portia and Effie squealing repeatedly. Seeing Bekah, Logan looked puzzled, "How did...how are you...not possible."

Bekah answered, "Oh, yeah, you hadn't heard; I was removed from the arena."

"What? How come?"

"I turned 19 a few days in; apparently, they're really serious about the whole age range thing. Whatever; I'm just glad I didn't get killed."

Haymitch took her hand, "We all are."

Logan looked perplexed, but ignored it and said, "I just don't know how I'll ever be able to get over it all."

"No victor really ever forgets," Haymitch said, "We're all damaged."

Bekah frowned at him, "You're not that bad."

Putting his arm around Bekah's waist, Haymitch laughed, "Not anymore."

Logan gave Effie a look, "What...Did I miss something?"

Effie looked flustered, "Oh, it's a long story."

Frowning, Logan said, "So skip the details; start at the end."

Bekah looked to Haymitch, who briefly explained.

Unable to believe it, Logan said, "But...you're old."

Haymitch frowned at him, "Thanks."

After all of the celebrations for Logan had subsided, Effie came to Haymitch and Bekah, and explained that they would remain at the Capitol for another week before the Victory Tour commenced.

Haymitch looked concerned, "Effie, after what they did to me, I can't leave Bekah alone; they might try to finish the punishment on her."

"Oh, heavens! You're right, Haymitch, I'll see what I can do."

Haymitch thanked her as she headed to her room.

"I have to ask her something," Bekah said, and followed Effie.

She tapped on her door, heard Effie tell her to come in, and Bekah entered, her stomach twisting with nervousness. She's the only one you can talk to.

"Uh, Effie, um, I just wanted to ask you something."

Effie gave her a sympathetic look, "Oh, dear, I'll work something out. Surely I can think of a way to make it where you're not left alone here; there's no need to worry."

Bekah shook her head, "It's not that, Effie."

Following closely behind Effie, Bekah kept her eyes on the floor as they walked down an exterior hallway. Effie led Bekah to a small room, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Bekah shook her head, "It's okay; thanks, Effie."

20 minutes later, Bekah was in another room. She hopped on a table, and a very stuffy woman entered. She gave Bekah a curt nod, then sat on a stool in front of a large machine that had a small screen on it. The woman silently put a cold jelly on Bekah's abdomen and pressing a hard wand-like object into Bekah's stomach, watching the screen intently, "How old are you?" she asked with a judgmental tone.

"19. Why?"

The woman ignored Bekah's question and frowned. She continued to slide the wand across Bekah's stomach, pressing down a little to firmly.

After ten minutes, the woman sighed, "Yes, you were right."

Bekah was a bit put off by the lady's shortness, but not enough to outweigh the glow she felt begin in her chest; she had never planned to have a baby so young, but now that she was actually carrying a tiny, 6 week old little person, she couldn't figure out how she had gone so long without that warm glow.

As the stuffy woman wiped the icy gel off Bekah's stomach, she said, "Aren't you that living tribute girl?"

Bekah nodded and slid off the table.

The lady frowned, "Hm."

Back in the suite, Haymitch asked Bekah where she had been; Effie promptly left the living area.

"Haymitch, I have to talk to you, and I don't know how you're going to take this."

A line appeared between his eyes as Haymitch furrowed his brow. He was nervous and concerned.

"What are your plans when we get back to 12?"

"I plan to marry you."

"After that."

"Hell, I figured we'd try to move past this, forget the bad stuff, and start a new life."

Bekah smiled at the double meaning he didn't know was behind his words, "My thoughts exactly. That new life you mentioned? Yeah, that's already begun, Haymitch." She beamed at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"A new life, Haymitch. Do you know where I was today?"

"Where?"

"I was at a doctor's office;" she placed her hand on her stomach, "That new life started 7 weeks ago."

"What? Are you serious?"

Bekah nodded and watched a smile spread across Haymitch's face, "I don't believe it!"

He hugged her, picking her up off her feet, both laughing with joy.


End file.
